James stepped into the luxurious hotel room and, for a moment, just stood there, taking it all in. The contrast between this and the broken-down resort in the Everglades couldn't have been starker. The air conditioning hummed quietly in the background, a gentle and constant reminder of the modern comforts he had almost forgotten. He dropped his bag near the plush king-sized bed and removed his boots. The softness of the carpet under his feet felt sinful.
After weeks in the wilderness, standing in a room with four solid walls and a roof that didn't leak was almost alien. He walked into the bathroom, marveling at the clean, shining surfaces, the neatly folded towels, and, most of all, the shower. His clothes flew off by themselves according to his will. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature to just the right amount of warmth, and stepped in. The feeling of hot water cascading over his skin was luxurious, washing away the physical and mental grime of their recent endeavors. Scrubbing himself with clean water and telekinesis was different from having access to modern amenities. He remained in the shower for a good ten minutes, allowing himself to relax. The knots of tension in his back disappeared, and he came out a new man.
Dressed in a fresh set of clothes that seemed oddly formal after his extended period wearing nothing but practical gear, James found a sense of normalcy returning. It was as if the simple act of wearing jeans and a comfortable shirt anchored him back to the world he'd temporarily left behind.
A while later, Lauren knocked on his door, dressed similarly in casual attire. They shared a moment of understanding, compounded by the opening of a soda bottle each from the minibar.
Together, they decided to catch up on the news from around the world, a task they had largely neglected while focused on their training and the mission in the Everglades. The headline that caught their attention was something neither of them could have anticipated: the Mariana Trench, known for housing the oldest recognized S-rank dungeon still around, had been cleared.
There was little news about who might have done it. Rather, the speculation seemed oddly vague. It was as if journalists didn't want to name names.
Well, whoever it was, they must be incredibly powerful. At least on par with Mr. Julian, if not stronger. That dungeon has been there since the Apocalypse for a reason. Almost no one could get to it, and those that could were quickly sent packing or eaten. If it's been cleared… It was probably the Sins, wasn't it? It would explain the silence. Had it been anyone else, they'd be rightfully bragging about it. I wonder if it was Pride or one of the others.
James took a deep breath and set his speculations aside. He probably wouldn't get confirmation, but he suspected he had gotten to the truth.
Reading more recent news, they found numerous articles and posts by people discussing the shake-up at the AA. Surprisingly, the public perception of these changes was generally positive, seen as a necessary pivot after several global operations failed to deliver on their promises. James couldn't help but snort at that explanation.
The relief efforts around the world were probably the least objectionable action the AA took aside from the extermination of the KLF. That people would think it's for that reason that heads were cut shows that the public doesn't know anything.
"Better than pitchforks, I guess." He muttered. Lauren nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the article. "As long as the public is on board with the changes, I suppose it's a good thing," she mused, though her tone suggested she shared James's skepticism.
The article credited the Chief Director for the shake-up, painting her in a heroic light. James raised an eyebrow at that. His last impression of the Chief Director was someone deeply entrenched in the status quo, not a figure of revolutionary change. Considering that he knew the originator of the operation well, James suspected that Mr. Bethany had allowed the woman to take credit to quietly disappear in the background." Must be a political maneuver," he muttered, trying to piece together the puzzle.
Lauren leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "Politics in the AA always seemed like a murky business," she said. "But if this leads to actual, positive change, then maybe it's worth the strange bedfellows."
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Mr. Julian excused himself shortly after dinner, mentioning a rendezvous with an old acquaintance he hadn't seen in years. James and Lauren exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued but left unvoiced. They'd allow their teacher his privacy, especially after seeing him carve through dozens of villages of crocodilians without batting an eye. Every man had the right to let some steam out.
The night air was warm, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of the ocean as they stepped out into the Miami nightlife. The city was alive, pulsating with energy and lights, a stark contrast to the quiet and danger of the swamp they had left behind.
One could almost forget that it had been nearly overrun by the very same crocodilians they had been killing in the Everglades. Still, some scars of that time remained. New constructions made up the majority of the buildings. Of the old Miami, little was left. The siege here hadn't been as bad as Tampa's, but the city had suffered much. The occasional low-tier dungeon spawning within the city itself also didn't help.
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Still, signs of resilience were everywhere. People went about their business without fear. They laughed in the open, drinking and enjoying life despite the monsters lurking outside their island of safety. It was the strength of the human spirit made manifest.
Their first stop was a vibrant bar called The Neon Flamingo, which captured the essence of the new Miami in its decor and ambiance. The walls were adorned with neon signs, flamingos predominantly, and tropical plants, giving it an almost psychedelic feel.
James ordered a mojito, relishing the taste of fresh mint and lime, while Lauren opted for a piña colada. They found a quiet corner where they could chat, reflecting on their journey and the path ahead.
"I see you've fallen to the dark side. Fruity and sweet wins once again!" James exulted once he had seen Lauren take a sip and sigh in contentment.
The rogue rolled her eyes. "We're in Florida. This is different."
"How is it different? It's not like they make their piña colada in that bar differently than in New York. It's the same drink." James complained.
"Ugh. Of course, the drink is the same. It's the ambiance. The air. It makes it taste different." She answered, earning an incredulous look.
They kept bickering, for once enjoying their youth and not letting anything break through the levity. The night deepened, and they decided to take a walk along the beach, the sound of the waves a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. Their path led them to a small, open-air taco stand called Luna's, where they grabbed some fish tacos and another round of drinks, settling on the sand to enjoy their late-night snack.
The atmosphere was relaxed, and they found themselves laughing and joking, the tension and seriousness of their past weeks of training giving way to a lighter mood. It was then that a couple of overly confident men approached Lauren, their intentions clear.
James had felt them coming from afar but amusedly decided they could face the shark without his interference since they were so confident.
"Hey, beautiful. Do you want to come with us to the Panthers? We have a table." The taller one said with a cocky grin, not even looking at James, who had concealed his presence to enjoy the show better.
Lauren, who had been watching the waves, turned to face them. However, rather than the pretty face she usually wore, something almost demonic took its place. Taut, pallid skin and empty eyes greeted them, sending the two scrambling back in horror, shouting.
Laughter filled the air, following the two college kids until they disappeared.
"That was more than they bargained for." James snorted.
"If they didn't want me without makeup, they don't deserve me at my best," Lauren answered, drawing another round of laughter from James.
It wasn't long before their amusement was interrupted again, but this time by a different sort of intrusion.
Approaching them were two figures, both radiating the faint energy signature James had come to recognize as that of F-rank Awakeners. Their presence was like a whisper compared to the roar of power he was accustomed to feeling from Lauren and himself.
"Stand up with your hands in the air, and don't make any rash moves," one of them commanded, a note of authority in his voice that he didn't have the power to back up.
James and Lauren exchanged an amused glance before complying, standing up slowly, their movements languid to the point of being mocking. This only seemed to irk the would-be enforcers, who, oblivious to the disparity in their strengths, proceeded with what they believed to be a simple confrontation.
They began searching them, clumsily attempting to pat down James and Lauren, searching for a magical item they believed was responsible for casting an illusion - the very illusion that had sent those earlier men fleeing.
Of course, they found nothing; there was no such item. Frustration marred their features as they turned their attention back to Lauren.
"Give up the illusion item, or we'll have to take you in," the more vocal of the two threatened, his voice carrying a hint of anger now.
Lauren sighed, almost bored, before allowing the shadows of the night to gather around her. Her presence intensified, shadows swirling like living things, casting her in a silhouette that spoke of power and danger. It was a sight to behold, the night itself seeming to bend to her will.
The realization of who – or rather, what – they were facing dawned on the two F-rank Awakeners. Their bravado evaporated instantly, replaced by fear as they scrambled to apologize, their earlier aggression turning into abject cowardice.
James watched the scene unfold with disgust. Some people allowed even the smallest amounts of power to go to their heads, and when they were made to face reality, they turned into wrecks.
As the weaker Awakeners stammered out their apologies, their faces pale under the moonlight, Lauren let the shadows recede, her expression mild irritation rather than anger. Standing beside her, James radiated cold disapproval that seemed to further chill the air around them.
Once it was clear that the immediate threat had passed and the two guild members realized they were outmatched, James decided to extract some information. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that demanded honesty.
"Which guild do you belong to?" he asked, his eyes piercing through the darkness to focus on the two F-ranks.
"R-Rhododendron Guild," one of them stuttered, avoiding James's gaze. "It's a low-level subsidiary of the Enduriel Guild."
James nodded, filing away the information. "And what about the Clearsky Guild? What can you tell us about them?" The mention of the Clearsky Guild restored a sliver of confidence to the pair, or perhaps it was the opportunity to speak ill of a rival that gave them courage.
"They're a middle-tier guild, handling the edges of the financial district," the second one piped up, a hint of disdain in his voice. "Lately, they've been getting too big for their britches, stepping on toes left and right." Lauren raised an eyebrow at that, exchanging a look with James. It was clear that guild politics were at play here.
After a few more questions to gauge the dynamics between the guilds and the overall situation in Miami, James and Lauren decided to let the two go. There was no benefit in escalating the situation further, especially when they were operating in unfamiliar territory.
Seeing James' annoyed look, Lauren shook her head, her gaze returning to the ocean. "It's not worth it. We got what we needed. Causing a scene with local guilds could complicate our stay here. We're not familiar enough with the dynamics to predict the fallout."